


Reclaiming

by nyromes



Series: Reconnecting [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Maedhros, Cousin Incest, Fear, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Torture, Past Violence, Post-Rescue from Thangorodrim, Rape Recovery, Rimming, Scars, Smut, Soul Bond, Soul Sex, Top Fingon, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25646578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyromes/pseuds/nyromes
Summary: "I wish to try something," the redhead said, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes.Fingon frowned but gave him a smile, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Maedhros' ear and placing a kiss on his jaw. Hot air tickled the side of his face as the older Elf exhaled shakily.He felt Maedhros' Fëa reach out to his and let himself fall into its embrace without fear for what he might find. He closed his eyes and sank into the gentle warmth and the steady soft light.A couple of decades after Maedhros’ rescue from the mountain, Fingon visits his cousin in Himring, and Maedhros has a request.Written as a sequel to my other fic,Recovering, but can be read as a standalone, too.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: Reconnecting [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859239
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	Reclaiming

**Author's Note:**

> Writer's block is a bitch and my anxious self is honestly incapable of dealing with it in under a year! This fic has been lying around for way longer than I'd like to admit, and now that it's finally finished I'm happy to get it off my hands.
> 
> To the wonderful people who asked for a sequel after reading [_Recovering_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18730825): I'm so fucking sorry it took me so long!  
> Please enjoy!

“Ah!” Fingon winced as his back hit the ground and the impact knocked the air out of his lungs. The sword just narrowly missed his throat driving into the soil, yet he laughed as the other Elf’s weight bore down on his chest, knees digging into his shoulders. Crimson curls fell into his face, and a spark lit up the green-grey eyes when he gasped for air and met their gaze. A grin split Maedhros’ lips, wide and uninhibited, and Fingon’s smile broadened further, though he still couldn’t breathe. The joy in Nelyo’s grin had the power to eclipse all thoughts on his mind.

For a long time after Thangorodrim, he'd feared he'd never see a genuine smile on Maedhros' face ever again, and decades later, those smiles were still rare. Yet Maedhros seemed to save them all for the few occasions when Fingon came to visit him in Himring.

They had left the fortress early the morning after Fingon arrived, riding south, through forests and along small streams, before setting up their tent in a clearing about half a day’s journey from Himring. The summer sun was not as strong here as in other parts of Beleriand, but it was warm enough to do without cloaks or long sleeves, and now, after a few rounds of sparring, their arms and necks were glistening with a faint sheen of sweat.

Lying here in the tall green grass, light-headed but grinning, Fingon almost felt as if they'd travelled back in time, back to Valinor, to the days of their youth, when they used to chase each other through the woods until they collapsed among the trees and wild flowers, breathless and laughing. He remembered how they wrestled on the ground, playfully fighting for the upper hand, and how often his cousin had simply surrendered, though his strength and technique would have outmatched Fingon's any time.

Even now, years later and fighting only with his left, his cousin was infinitely more skilled with his sword than any other warrior that Fingon had met. It was mesmerising to see him fight, beautiful and frightening at the same time, his control of the blade so immaculate as if it was a part of his body. That his right hand was missing seemed to make no difference at all.

It appeared to come to Nelyo naturally—he had always been talented in the art of fighting in a way that made every movement look effortless and neat. Yet Fingon knew it wasn't just talent that allowed his cousin to wield a sword so easily now. He'd been there when Maedhros had first trained with his left, his right wrist still bandaged and raw. He knew how much time and dedication and frustration Nelyo's skill was built on.

It caused his chest to swell with admiration, and his eyes turned mellow as he tried to reach up into the other's long hair. Maitimo let him, taking the weight of his knee off the younger Elf's shoulder so Fingon could tangle his fingers in the wild auburn locks.

_This,_ Fingon couldn't help but notice, was different from their time in Valinor. Back then, his cousin had worn his hair in braids, meticulously kept out of his face. Now that he could no longer tie them back himself, they often fell freely to his waist. Maglor, of course, would gladly help if Maedhros asked, but Fingon knew his cousin rarely did. His lover had always been proud and independent. The loss of his hand had only made him more stubbornly so.

He smiled and traced the creases at the corners of Maedhros' eyes with his thumbs.

"I submit." He licked his lips, heart fluttering at the words. Then he pushed himself up as best he could and placed a soft kiss on Maedhros' lips. Nelyo smiled into the kiss and answered it lightly. 

"You've regained your strength," Fingon murmured. "I stood a better chance against you last time."

Maedhros hummed, still close enough that Fingon could feel the vibrations against his skin.

"I'm glad, though," he said. "It's good to see you healthy. And happy."

His fingers trailed through Maedhros' hair, and Maedhros brought his hand up to carefully touch Fingon's neck.

"I'm always happy when you're here," he professed.

The younger Elf laughed and pulled him in for another kiss, this time letting his lips linger and his tongue explore the heat of Maedhros' welcoming mouth. "I missed you," he whispered eventually, drawing back to meet the Fëanorion's eyes.

Maedhros nodded. "I missed you, too," he said. "Every day. More than anything."

His expression had sobered, the lines on his face now solemn, though not melancholy. He pulled the sword from the earth and cast it aside.

They moved together as Fingon sank back into the grass, kissing, touching, and tugging at each other's clothes until they lay next to each other naked, chest to chest, surrounded by flowers and trees and the sound of insects and birdsong.

Maedhros' hand came to rest on Fingon's waist, the tips of his fingers pressing gently into his skin. Silence claimed them along with the need to slow down. To savour the moment and commit it to memory.

His cousin’s palm slid down to his hip, and Fingon looked up.

"I wish to try something," the redhead said, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. 

Fingon frowned but gave him a smile, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Maedhros' ear and placing a kiss on his jaw. Hot air tickled the side of his face as the older Elf exhaled shakily.

He felt Maedhros' Fëa reach out to his and let himself fall into its embrace without fear for what he might find. He closed his eyes and sank into the gentle warmth and the steady soft light. 

Nelyo's soul had healed so much in the time since his rescue that Fingon was struck by the change every time their souls merged. It had been a battlefield the first time Maedhros had let him in after Thangorodrim. A landscape of destruction and pain wrapped in darkness and smoke. He'd stepped through smoldering ruins and fields burned to ashes, broken skulls and rotting bodies lying scattered on the ground and piled into heaps. The air had been suffocating, and the soil soaked with blood. And Fingon had cried, thinking death had been too thorough for anything to ever grow from the remains.

But then it had rained. It had rained for days, weeks, months as Maedhros slept and ate and tried to stand up, clearing the air of soot and stench as the wounds on his body slowly closed and his wrist came to heal. It had rained as Maedhros took his first steps outside and felt the sun on his face. And it had rained when Fingon wordlessly handed him a sword and dragged him out to the training ground.

It had been raining for almost a year when it suddenly stopped, and Maedhros had smiled a tentative smile as he let Fingon see the thin leaves of grass that grew from the earth and the patches of moss that sought to cover the ruins. It had been too much for Fingon not to hide his face in Nelyo's neck and weep.

Maedhros' soul had recovered like all the other battlefields Fingon had seen in his time. The bodies had decayed and fed the ash-enriched soil, and flowers now grew most plentifully where a plethora of blood had seeped into the ground.

Harsh, bleak-faced mountains rose into skies that were clouded most days yet were no longer haunted by storms every night. Rapid rivers and streams filled once bottomless ravines and faults. Over time, small groups of trees became forests, deep and dark but fiercely alive, and Fingon would have liked to roam them for days.

Maedhros' Fëa was different from what it used to be when they were young—cooler, rougher, and more obscure—yet it still felt irrefutably familiar. Melding their souls was like coming home.

Fingon blinked in confusion as Maedhros pulled away and turned to rummage through his clothes, then wordlessly handed him a small vial of oil. He closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together, sending a surge of memories through the connection of their souls. Images flooded Fingon's mind, not unlike the ones he'd recalled earlier, of the two of them when they were young and starry-eyed, and blind to anything but each other. Of stolen kisses, and not quite innocent touches. Of their first night alone, out in the forest, never minding the cold or the crammed space of their tent because they were pressed so close, sharing air, both nervous and giddy with excitement at once. Memories of how Maedhros had bit his lip and straddled Fingon's hips. Of the way he'd gasped into Fingon's mouth the moment he sank down on Fingon's length. 

It was a request, Fingon knew. Yet it took him by surprise. Maedhros had not asked for Fingon to take him since his time as Morgoth's captive, and Fingon had never tried to question him about it.

His eyes sought out Maedhros' own, taking in the hints of apprehension showing through his look of trust and determination. He knew better than to ask if Maedhros was sure, though Maedhros answered all the same.

"I've let him and what he did to me come between us for too long. I don't want him to hold that kind of power." He swallowed hard and placed his hand on the side of Fingon's face. "I know this is you. And I know I used to like what we did. Before... I don't wish to give him the satisfaction of having succeeded in taking something I cherished and turning it against me."

He looked harrowed by the memories, and Fingon leaned in to connect their lips and kiss the pain away. The older Elf kissed back instinctively, making Fingon smile against his lips. His Fëa glowed with love and he let it seep into Maedhros', filling it with light and warmth as Maedhros wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. He moved them until Fingon was lying on Maedhros' firm chest, a thigh between the Fëanorion's legs.

"Like this?" Fingon asked.

"Like this," said Maedhros. "So I can see you."

Nodding, Fingon gave him another smile. "I love you." Because it was true, and he needed to say it. Because he'd do anything for the fierce, strong-willed Elf beneath him.

Maedhros smiled back at his lover's words. The bond between their souls was buzzing with static.

"I trust you to tell me if anything feels wrong," the dark-haired Elf insisted, earning himself a fond sigh of mock-exasperation. Maedhros rolled his eyes, but muttered, "Of course."

They kissed once more—slowly, deeply. Losing themselves to sensation and each other. Hands roamed naked skin, traced scars and freckles, and both of them gasped as Fingon reached down and closed his hand around stiffening flesh. They thrust into Fingon's tight fist together, their kisses open-mouthed and breathy, their eyes clenched shut. Precum slicked Fingon's palm and their movements grew erratic until they drew apart, both struggling for air.

After a while, Fingon sat up, shuffling back and settling between Maedhros' spread legs.

He stared down at the taller Elf for several moments, taking in the sight, before noticing the nervous tremor in Maedhros' thighs. He bent down to leave a trail of kisses from his knee up to his hip, then circled his thumb on the edge of the bone there. He'd seen the scars and burn marks so many times that he often forgot they were there. Yet sometimes the brutality of their existence still shocked him, even though they did nothing to taint Maedhros' beauty. His fingertips followed a broad, raised welt that curved around Maedhros' waist where a whiplash had purposely missed and wrapped around his ribs. His back, Fingon knew, was a web of scar tissue that spanned from his neck down to his tailbone and would be there forever.

He raised his eyes to Maedhros' face and banished all thoughts of darkness from his mind. He would not waste their time remembering pain.

His lips touched the tip of the older Elf's cock, and Fingon heard a sharp intake of breath from above, before taking Maedhros' length into his mouth.

He moaned at the velvety feel and familiar taste and looked up to see the other Elf's head thrown back in bliss, chest heaving as he gasped. A smile lit up Fingon's eyes as he relaxed his jaw to take Maedhros down to the root, letting the head of his cock stretch his throat and bring tears to his eyes. He nuzzled the soft auburn hairs at the base of Maedhros' shaft, inhaling the earthy scent he'd missed so much. 

Every time they said goodbye, they promised each other that the next time would be soon. That it'd only be months this time instead of years. And yet they both knew it'd be too long before they'd see each other again. It was never enough. And with evil once more stirring in the north, preparations for war would likely soon claim all their time _._

"Finno-" Maedhros' fingers gripped his hair, gold-laced braids coming apart, though Fingon didn't mind. He closed his hand around the base of his lover's erection when Maedhros jerked and thrust up, grinning at the sound of frustration that caught in his cousin's throat.

"Patience," Fingon chuckled, affection disarming the teasing tone of his voice. "Patience." He kissed the spot where Maedhros' thigh met his hip, then stretched out between his legs. The vial of oil that his cousin had handed him earlier lay in the grass, just in reach, but Fingon paid it no heed. Instead, his thumb brushed one of the scars that had been carved into Nelyo's inner thighs, and his eyes fell closed as he nuzzled the patch of soft skin just beneath Maedhros' balls.

Maedhros groaned, sending shivers of joy down the younger Elf's spine. Fingon smiled as he wet his lips and spread Maedhros' cheeks, then pressed a gentle kiss to his lover's quivering hole. 

He hadn't taken his lover since the night before the bloodshed at Alqualondë. It had been even longer since they'd done _this._

For a moment, Maedhros tensed and Fingon simply breathed against his skin, before Maedhros' hand once more tangled in his hair, tight grip pulling him in. "Fin-"

A soft moan reverberated in Fingon's chest as he flicked his tongue out and licked a slow stripe across Nelyo's hole. The muscles fluttered beneath his touch, clenching and relaxing uncontrollably, yet Maedhros didn't push him away. Encouraged, Fingon repeated the action, circling Maedhros' entrance with his tongue and laving wetly at the rim, sucking at the sensitive skin and pressing his nose against Nelyo's taint.

Maedhros' hips bucked and his breath hitched when Fingon sealed his mouth over his hole and pressed inside, just a bit, before lapping at his rim again, spreading him further and nipping at his cheeks.

"Cousin, please..." Maedhros' voice was raspy and low, the muscles of his thighs taut and trembling where they clenched around Fingon's head to keep him close. 

The dark-haired Elf hummed and let his tongue delve deeper this time, pushing past the initial resistance and licking into the soft, wet heat of Maedhros' channel. Nelyo cried out, and Fingon revelled in the sound, tongue stroking Maedhros' hole in firm, insistent swipes before going back to nudging his rim. Saliva covered Fingon's chin and ran down his jaw, images surging through his mind of what they must look like right now—lost to passion, writhing, moaning—and Maedhros shivered as the visions reached him through the bond of their souls. 

Ignoring the pressing need between his own legs, Fingon placed another kiss on Maedhros' hole and wet his fingers with spit, rubbing one against the tight ring of muscles until it opened to his touch. He slipped his finger in alongside his tongue, going slow and soothing the gentle stretch with soft, teasing licks. He knew he'd found the spot he'd been looking for when Maedhros cursed and pushed back against the intrusion, words breathless as he asked for more. Fingon added a second finger, then a third, spreading them and sliding his tongue in the spaces between.

By the time he finally pulled away and coated his fingers in the thick, scented oil, Maedhros' body accepted him easily. The muscles quivered as the digits pushed back inside, then relaxed as Fingon slowly spread the oil. The younger Elf licked a final swipe along the underside of Maedhros' twitching erection before letting his fingers slip free and crawling back up to meet Nelyo's lips in a kiss, his cousin's taste still heavy on his tongue.

Maedhros smiled. "I hadn't realized how much I missed this."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself so far."

"I did." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he pecked Fingon's lips. "And I will enjoy myself even more once I feel your hands in my hair and your mouth on mine and _this_ ," he muttered and groped Fingon's length, "so deep inside me I can feel you in my throat."

Fingon snorted a laugh and shook his head in disbelief. Then his smile turned gentle and he curved his hand around the side of Maedhros' face, their Fëar aglow. "You never seize to astound me," he breathed. "You’re amazing."

"And you're too easily impressed," Maedhros teased.

Fingon shook his head again and leaned their foreheads together, nudging his cousin's nose with his own. "You're remarkable."

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Fingon said, then took a breath. "I don't want to hurt you. Or remind you of him."

The taller Elf gave him a smile, sage green eyes holding Fingon's gaze. "You're not him. And nothing about this, here, feels anything like it did with him. I will stop you if it doesn't feel right. But I want this, if you want it, too."

"Of course," Fingon sighed. "Of course I want-"

"Then stop thinking so much and just take me already!" He raised his hips to rub his length against the other Elf's cock, his hand moving down to grab Fingon's ass. Then his face split into a satisfied grin when Fingon slung an arm under his knee and hauled Maedhros' leg over his shoulder.

"Mmhh, yes-"

Fingon swallowed the noise that left his cousin's mouth when his cock slid between Maedhros' cheeks. An arm twined itself around his waist and pulled him in, and then Nelyo's breath was hot as he whispered in his ear. "Fuck me."

Fingon hesitated for a final short moment before Maedhros smashed their lips together in a bruising kiss and wrapped his hand around Fingon's length to guide it to his hole. Tight, slick heat drowned out the worries and fears that had swarmed Fingon's head when the tip of his erection sank in and Maedhros' muscles gave way.

He trembled as he held himself still, staring down at his love with parted lips and a clouded gaze. Maedhros' eyes were shut and his brows in a deep, strained frown. The connection between their souls went blank for a heartbeat, and panic shot through Fingon's chest. He opened his mouth but was stopped before he could speak.

"Fin..." Maedhros' words were slurred, his pupils wide and glazed as he met Fingon's eyes. "Finno... More, please-" He bit his lip when Fingon pushed deeper, nails digging into his cousin's tanned skin.

Fingon shuddered and bottomed out, taking a moment to gather his wits before pulling back. The walls of Maedhros' body clenched and fluttered around him, hot and wet and so overwhelmingly good, gripping him tight and sucking him in. Their Fëar flared up, as if struck by lightning, and all of a sudden everything came crashing in at once—emotions, memories, fears, hopes, dreams—everything they'd been through and meant to each other, a wave of overpowering, heart-rending love.

"Kiss me," Maedhros gasped, and Fingon leaned in with the next deep thrust, meeting Maedhros' tongue with his own and groaning into his mouth as his cousin bit down on his lip. The world spun around them, narrowing down to nothing but their bodies coming together, the smell of sweat on hot skin, and the sound of their breaths, their moans, their panted names from the other's throat. 

Supporting himself on his forearms, Fingon slid his hands into Nelyo's thick hair, tugging at the strands as his rhythm grew faster, his movements rougher, and Maedhros gave a breathless laugh. 

It should have been gentle. Their first time together like this in so long. It should have been loving and lazy and careful and slow. But this is what they needed, really. What Maedhros had wanted when he'd asked to be taken. What Fingon hadn't realized he'd missed so much. This flurry of passion that left no room for doubts or concerns.

It felt so simple, so right, so close to how it felt back then when they were careless and free and unafraid to be rough. Before he'd ever felt the need to be cautious around Maedhros for fear he might cause pain.

This—here and now, fast and hard—was a way of reclaiming what they’d lost, and Fingon's soul was shouting for joy.

He wedged a hand between their bodies and took hold of Maedhros' cock to stroke him in time with his thrusts. Maedhros' head dropped back into the grass as he moaned and pushed up to meet the snap and drag of Fingon's hips. "Finno, ah-"

He trembled, hand clenching and unclenching where it pressed against the younger Elf's back, lips parted in a silent scream. Light burst from his Feä, suffusing their bond, and Fingon let go as pleasure shot through his nerves.

He felt Nelyo's fingers comb through his hair when the brightness faded and the world billowed back into focus. The grass and the trees, the flowers and birds. He shivered with oversensitivity when he let Maedhros' leg slip from his shoulder and slowly pulled out. His lips brushed the side of Maedhros' neck, his cousin's scent filling his lungs. 

He'd collapsed on top of the other and they now lay tangled and sweaty, both catching their breaths. Fingon placed his hand over Maedhros' severed wrist and stroked the skin with his thumb. "How do you feel?"

Maedhros chuckled and the sound of it rumbled through his chest. "Sore."

Fingon laughed.

"Satisfied. Happy. Relieved... I haven't felt this free in a very long time."

The younger Elf nodded. He was glad there was no regret now that the haze of lust had lifted. 

He shifted so Maedhros no longer had to bear his full weight, and Maedhros wrinkled his nose at the sticky, slick mess between them.

"We can go down to the river and bathe if you want. It's warm enough."

The Fëanorian thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Later," he said. "I want to lie with you for a bit." Smiling, he added, "Then perhaps when we're taking a bath, you can fuck me again."

Fingon snorted but didn't object. They barely had a week before he would have to return to Hithlum. The memories they made would have to sustain them for months, or possibly years.

He grabbed a piece of clothing and wiped them down as best he could, then settled back into Maedhros' embrace. Their Fëar were thrumming gently where they were merged, shining with a soft-golden hue. Nelyo's heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath his palm. Fingon turned his face into the crook of Nelyo’s neck and kissed the spot below his jaw, and as he closed his eyes and sank into the landscape of the older Elf's soul, the sun in Maedhros’ sky was as warm as the one that he felt on his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make my day, so please let me know what you thought! Constructive criticism is always welcome :)


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